Moondance
by Bloodsong
Summary: A fantabulous night to make romance, beneath the cover of October skies.  Complete.  Please don't kill me.  You don't know me!
1. Moondance

A/N: For the record, I still don't believe in J/S. However, when the Goblin King shows up in your mind's eye, in a setting you dreamed once in high school and still haunts you whenever you hear the song "Moondance", and it's October for gods' sake, you tend to listen!

* * *

Disclaimer: 'Moondance' cover property of Michael Buble. Jareth property of Jim Henson. Location inspired by Fairie Tale Theater's 'Dancing Princesses'. (checks) Yeah, everything else belongs to me. Gah, this is complicated.

* * *

My dark cloak barely skimmed the grass as I scurried to the open-air gazebo awash with light, music and laughter. No one knew I was here; my stealth was very successful. Halting behind one of the ornamental bushes that marked the outer edge of the gazebo, I shed the cloak, hanging it neatly on a branch. My white satin dress gleamed in the mix of candle and moonlight bathing the structure and the nobility twirling within its columns. Where the band and the singer were, I don't know. It almost seemed to be magic. I carefully straightened the cap sleeves and smoothed the skirt down from the empire waistline. Showtime. 

Tiptoeing around the bush, I took a position behind one of the columns, next to the buffet table. Watching carefully, my slippered foot tapped the rhythm to the country dance currently being played. My eyes swept the field, looking for an opportunity. The dance ended and the lady closest to me spun towards the gardens with a flirtatious wink to her partner. He grinned and stepped back towards the center of the gazebo. I slid into the empty place, eager to dance with the next change of partners. Who it was didn't matter. I was here!

The gentlemen ringed a few steps away from the ladies moved one partner to the left. I smiled up at mine, only to have the smile become a struggle to keep my jaw from dropping. He was as pale as I, but where my brunette hair gleamed, his blond shimmered. Mismatched eyes stared deeply into mine and a smirk that could only be called predatory graced his mouth. I gave him my hand, feeling slightly dazed, and he bowed over it.

"Welcome," He said huskily, pulling me to the center of the gazebo as drums and horns played the opening bars to one of my favorite songs. With an expert twirl, he pulled me flush against him. An eyebrow cocked in challenge, which I accepted with a slight toss of my head. As the singer began to croon, we separated, hands clasped in a swing hold. For the first verse, he twirled me in every complicated maneuver of the swing. As the singer directed, so we obeyed. My eyes were shining with stars and romance was thick in the air. He pulled me close to his chest, head dipped as if to listen to my heart. I blushed, unable to help myself. The thought of making love to this man made my pulse race and my breath shorten. His hand glided down my cheek and I trembled. Smirking, he dipped me, pulled me up and we moved into a quickstep for the refrain and bridge, only to come together in a tango that ended with me dipped again during the pause in the music. As the singer started again, we foxtrotted around the gazebo, bodies brushing and eyes locked. Again he touched my cheek and again I trembled. My eyes must have been blazing, given the fire I saw in his two-toned orbs. The singer belted out the last few lines and we twirled in place. My partner very slowly dipped me as the song came to an end, holding my leg high against his chest. We were panting as he pulled me back up. The music died as our lips came together in an explosive kiss. I clung to him, shuddering with the sensations pouring through me. We broke apart just enough to breathe, gazes still firmly locked. I reached for his face with a trembling hand.

"Am I dreaming?" I whispered.

"Do you wish to be?"


	2. Steel Bars

A/N: "We must not look at goblin men/We must not buy their fruits" Nor should one ask a Goblin King "Is this what you really want?" when He has chosen to be one's muse. Guess it's a good thing I'm no longer a maiden.

* * *

Disclaimer: 'Goblin Market' written by Christina Rossetti. Jareth property of Jim Henson. 'Steel Bars' owned by Michael Bolton.

* * *

I leaned against my front door with a sigh. Another night, another failed outing. I couldn't even call it a date. Poor guy. Poor me. An ironic smirk twisted my mouth. Oh yes, poor little me, having all these guys chasing after me only to be coolly rebuffed after one night out.

The dream. It all started with that blasted dream. Moon-madness, nothing more. A short romp through a childhood fantasy, with a very adult ending. Now, now, be honest with yourself. It wasn't that adult. Just a kiss. God, what a kiss, though. And that thrice blasted exchange. I kicked off my heels forcefully, remembering what was said.

_"Am I dreaming?" _

"Do you wish to be?"

"No. No, I don't."

"Ah." A dictionary worth of meaning in that one sound. Then, _"Such a pity."_

He LEFT me. Walked me back to the spot I had stolen, bowed over my hand again and LEFT. The rest of the nobility finally noticed the stranger in their midst. And I, coward that I am, fled, leaving that cloak behind on the bush.

I sighed again, pushing away from the door. No use dwelling on it, really. It was just a dream. I need to get over myself. Flipping on the radio, I grinned as one of my favorite love songs came on. Posing in the living room, I sang along, letting all of my frustration out in my voice. As I sang the refrain, I could almost feel the bonds forming around my torso, guarding my heart. I gasped at the sensation, clutching my chest. The song seemed to grow louder as the refrain started again. I dropped to my knees, panting at the sensations. Magic seemed to whip around me, sealing the bonds, caging me, imprisoning my heart.

"NO!" I shouted. The song ended, the same four lines repeating over and over as the singers faded away. As the strange feeling passed, I pushed myself to my feet, glaring at the radio.

_"Yes."_


	3. Morning Dance

Disclaimer: "Morning Dance" owned by Spyrogyra. Jareth still owned by Jim Henson. Sarah is owned by Irony, 'cause it sure as hell ain't Williams, nor is it me. It's…somebody else.

* * *

I stood in line, bobbing my head along to the jazz music piping through the coffee shop's sound system. This was a good song. I tried to remember the band as I moved along, waiting my turn. A faint pressing feeling had me rubbing my sternum. Those bloody bars. Ever since that night in my apartment, when I'm pretty sure SOMEONE cast some kind of SPELL on me, the bars would manifest around males. Didn't matter if I was in public, at work, or even sending an email or talking on the phone. If there was any kind of guy involved, the bonds would press lightly against my skin. It was, needless to say, freaking me out. Yet, to be brutally honest, a small part of me was flattered and gratified that someone was so concerned about the leanings of my heart they saw fit to guard it. A minuscule part. Itty bitty and therefore easy to ignore. The rest of me was simply fed up with the entire situation. First dreams, then binding spells? What next?

"Hey, Sarah."

"Hi, Grace."

"Your usual?"

"I am reading the board correctly when it says Kenya AA on tap, right?"

"Yes, you are."

"Oh good. I was afraid I was seeing things again. Yes, my usual, please." A medium of the dark roast on tap. I love Kenya AA, such a rich, bitter flavor. Grace grinned as she filled my order. I dug in my purse for my wallet.

"Oh! You don't have to do that. It's already covered."

"Buh?" I blinked owlishly at the cardboard cup she was holding out. Glancing down, I saw my coffeehouse punch card was still a few holes shy of my freebie. "What do you mean?"

"That gentleman paid for you already." Grace gestured with the cup. I looked around and spotted a man sitting nearby, watching me over the rim of his mug. He had pale blond hair in a preppy cut and his eyes... Something about his eyes looked awfully familiar. I blinked, realizing the pressing feeling was gone. Turning back to Grace, who had a wicked smile, I took the cup. I stepped away from the counter, looked at the man again and raised my coffee in salute. He did the same, lowering his mug to reveal a smirk I immediately recognized. Gulping, I turned and fled the coffee shop, the final strains of the song ringing in my ears.


	4. Born to Run

Disclaimer: "Born to Run" property of The Boss. Jareth belongs to Jim Henson.

I winced as another high note was horribly butchered. Why, oh, WHY had I let Grace talk me into coming to her favorite karaoke bar? Blond hair and a predatory smirk came to mind. Oh, that's right. She thought to worm the details out of me over drinks and bad singing. Bloody best friends, knowing one's weaknesses and exploiting them; namely, that I will talk about anything and everything to avoid listening to bluebirds and note crackers mangle a good song. Speaking of bloody best friends...

"I think you did it to yourself," She said in my ear. My head whipped around and we nearly smashed noses.

"Did WHAT to myself?"

"The binding. I've been studying you all night and I don't see anything foreign in your aura. Nor do you have any traces of outside magic lingering. I think, somewhere deep down, you WANT that dreamboat who danced with you and now you're subconsciously guarding yourself. And because it was such a powerful, magical dream, your psyche is making you feel it." I groaned and dropped my head in my hands. Grace knows what she's talking about. She's got the Sight. I've caught her talking to goblins and fairies at the coffee shop, making her unruly house ghost behave when guests are there, and communing with trees. She's also been spookily accurate when it comes to peoples' health and well-being. She knew Mrs. Catarin was developing breast cancer three days before the doctors found the lump. In fact, it had been Grace's urging that spurred Mrs. Catarin to go in for the mammogram. I lifted my head as the song ended.

"Are you saying I cast a spell on myself? Me, who doesn't believe in that nonsense," I asked over the cheering, half-drunk crowd. Another name was called.

"No. What I'm saying is you've fallen in love with a dream and are afraid of losing that dream, so you're protecting yourself. The manifestation of bands or armor around your chest is simply a self-projection." I was about to protest when a VERY familiar voice came over the speakers. My head whipped back to the stage.

"This song is for a lovely lady I'm trying to reach. Sarah, if you're here, please hear me." My jaw hit the table as one of the best rock songs ever began pouring out of the speakers. It was that guy from the coffee shop! He started singing and my eyes bugged out. Good heavens, he had a voice to rival Bruce himself. Grace grabbed my shoulder and shook me. I tore my eyes from him, but my ears were full of the message.

"That's him! That's him, isn't it?" Grace babbled, shaking me with each sentence. I grabbed her wrist and made her let go.

"Yes, it's him. The guy who bought me coffee a few days ago."

"No! Well, yes, but it's also your dreamboat, isn't it?" Grace was waving her hands around, nearly smacking my eye. "I can SEE it, Sarah! You just lit UP!" I blinked at her, then risked a glance at the stage. I tested the bonding feeling. It was gone. I looked at the next table, where three guys were pumping their fists to the beat. The bonds tightened around my chest. Looking back at the stage, the feeling vanished. Oh lordy. The solo before the final verse came and Dreamboat's eyes scanned the crowd. How he found me, tucked away in a corner table, I don't know. But he did, our eyes locked and it was like I was back in that gazebo. His smirk turned into a full-fledged smile. Taking a deep breath, he belted out the last verse, holding his hand out to me. I was on my feet and moving to the stage before my brain caught up. Even when I realized what I was doing, I couldn't stop myself. I was being drawn to him, pure and simple. Drawn to a guy, and I didn't even know his name! He knew mine, but I hadn't heard his introduction! I ran out of time as the song ended and I stopped a few feet from the stage. He put the microphone back in the stand, hopped down and swooped me up into his arms. The crowd went nuts.

"Who are you?" I whispered, my feet dangling a good three inches off the floor. Heavens, he's tall. He laughed in my ear, his face pressed into my hair.

"Jareth."


	5. Invisible Touch

Disclaimer: "Invisible Touch" property of Genesis. Jareth, King of the Goblins owned by Jim Henson. Everyone else mentioned owned by me.

* * *

"Satisfied?" The Goblin King growled, staring into the crystal he was holding. Inside, Sarah and Jareth, two very unlikely mortals, were kissing passionately in a club of some kind. A rich, velvety chuckle sounded behind him. 

"My dear Goblin King, when am I NOT satisfied?" Golden gloved arms crossed over the back of his throne and a beautiful, mischievious face crowned in glorious red hair rested its chin on the satin-covered wrists. "I do believe this makes two. Haven't you learned your lesson yet?" Lady Luck chuckled again. His Majesty growled again, popping the crystal.

"She was supposed to come here."

"That was not the wager, Your Majesty." A scroll appeared before his eyes, the writing mocking him. 'His Majesty, Jareth, King of the Goblins, does hereby bet the Archetype Lady Luck that he will win the heart of one Sarah Watson, after His Majesty has given Sarah a dream.'

"How was I supposed to know I had a mortal copy?!?" Jareth exploded, snatching the scroll and tearing it into tiny pieces. The pieces flew into the air and reformed. Lady Luck held out a hand and the scroll flew to her fingers, where it collapsed into a clear gold ball.

"You really should research your bets more carefully, Your Majesty." The ball rolled up her arm, across her shoulder, behind her neck and back down the other side. Jareth twisted in his seat to stare up at her. A sardonic smirk formed, which she mockingly returned.

"Name your reward, Archetype of Fortune."

"Memorize the song this ball chooses. You might learn something." With a flick, the gold sphere flew into the air and landed on Jareth's fingertips. Lady Luck blew him a kiss and vanished. Jareth frowned at the globe, which began to spin. A strange mortal song with very disturbing lyrics began to play. As Jareth listened to the refrain, his mismatched eyes grew wide. His suspicions were confirmed as the song continued, ending in slowly fading repetitions of the refrain. He tossed the ball into the air, where it popped of its own accord.

"Something mysterious, indeed, my lady." Jareth sighed and vanished. In the corner, the spirit of Sarah Williams shrugged and went back to playing with the goblins. His Majesty had never been lucky in love.

FIN

* * *

A/N: Okay, show of hands of who wants to kill me? (looks around). Wow, um, ok then. (runs away) 


End file.
